Five Times Tony Stark Woke up in Someone Else's Bed
by Tiny-Scientist
Summary: ...and one time he didn't
1. Introduction

It wasn't like he didn't have a reputation. Of course he had a reputation. He was Tony Stark, and being Tony Stark had a few necessary risks involved. Like, for example, his reputation for sleeping with a lot of women, well, a lot of people in fact. It wasn't like the whole world didn't know he was out and proud. But of course he had a reputation, and there were times when he was only too glad to uphold it, because if you're a well-known figure with a reputation like Tony's you had to do something to uphold it, because it sure as hell wasn't going to uphold itself without a little help. So occasionally he woke up in an unusual bed, or woke up in his bed to find someone he didn't actually know. So what?

It wasn't a huge deal until he started waking up in bed with his teammates.


	2. Bruce

Tony didn't even need to open his eyes to find out that he wasn't in his own bed. The sheets were wrong; rough and crumpled against his skin. His bare skin. A lot of bare skin, but he wasn't completely naked. He still had pants. That was something to be grateful for. Or not. He hadn't decided on that just yet.

He could hear breathing just near his left elbow. It was slow, deep breathing. Good. Whoever it was hadn't woken up yet. He had time to get out of bed and make his escape with perhaps a shred of his dignity intact. He started sliding towards the edge of the bed, but naturally, he couldn't resist a quick look at whose bed he had shared.

Still asleep in the bed, wearing the same clothes he'd been wearing in the lab last night, was Bruce. He looked relaxed, a lot calmer than he had been recently.

Tony flopped back down in bed, staring at the ceiling in confusion. He struggled to remember what had happened the previous night. It came back to him in bits and pieces.

Working with Bruce in the lab. That was a starting point. He could remember working with Bruce in the lab. Things had been going well; there hadn't even been any explosions recently. Bruce had been in a strange mood though, quiet and restless, like something had been on his mind. He'd snapped at Tony, and that was when Tony had decided he'd had enough.

"What is up with you?" He asked, pointing the whiteboard marker he'd been using to take down results with at Bruce, "You, are not acting normal. Not even you normal. So something's up. Something worse than normal you things. And I want in."

"What?" Bruce asked, out slightly off-guard by Tony's direct approach.

"What's up?" Tony asked again, still gesticulating with the marker.

Bruce sighed and sat down on the stool across from Tony. He ran a hand over his eyes, and then looked across at Tony, who was regarding him with a piercing look.

"I'm fine." He insisted, "Really. Your concern is nice, but totally unwarranted Tony." He made a placating gesture.

"Like hell." Tony muttered, rounding the workbench and wrapping Bruce in a slightly too tight hug, ignoring the way his friend squeaked indignantly, and flailed his arms in a futile escape attempt. Bruce finally relaxed against Tony's chest, and Tony patted him affectionately on the head.

"See?" He said, a little too smug perhaps, "This isn't so bad."

Tony couldn't remember what happened next. He sat up again, racking his brains for the next piece of the puzzle.

Kissing Bruce. He remembered kissing Bruce. All hot and needy and desperate, and that desperation didn't just come from Bruce, it came from Tony as well, because Bruce might not have been the one he wanted, but he was close enough for the moment. Yes, kissing Bruce had been nice. The rest was fuzzy, but judging by the presence of his pants, they probably hadn't had sex.

Bruce began to stir, and tony thought about beating a hasty retreat, but that wouldn't be fair on Bruce. Besides, the other man might have an answer for him about last night's events.

Bruce opened his eyes and looked up at him in confusion, "Um, hi…" he said, trailing off uncertainly, "What did we…last night..?"

"No idea." Tony replied, shrugging.

Bruce threw a hand over his eyes and flopped back in bed dramatically. "Great." He muttered.


	3. Clint

"Well this is awkward." Tony said.

"You can say that again." Coulson replied dryly.

Clint just put his head in his hands. "How is this my life?" He moaned.

Tony was slightly offended, but mostly he was just confused. This clearly wasn't his bed, or in fact his room. It wasn't even his floor of the tower. How had last night gone so utterly wrong?

He could remember this time. It had been fun; he'd been drunk enough to not care what he was doing, but sober enough that he was still aware of it. Which is why he'd been flirting with Steve. Which was a terrible idea, because Steve just did what he always did when Tony tried to make advances, which was to assume that he was drunk, and tell him, kindly but firmly, to go to bed. Just because he had been drunk this time around didn't meant that he was always drunk when he flirted with Steve.

Steve's rejection of him had prompted Tony to drink more though, instead of going to bed like Steve had suggested, which had led to him stumbling towards what he had assumed was his own bed at some time around midnight, when everyone else was still up, watching some movie the Clint had assured them all was 'freaking awesome guys'.

Clint was talking, Tony noticed, and he tuned back in, "Well I went to be after the movie," he was explaining, "And I kinda assumed that it was you asleep there, and I didn't wanna wake you." He shrugged.

Coulson sighed, "Well, I suppose I'm just as bad, I assumed that you were just hogging all the bed again. You do make a habit of it."

"Hold on," Tony said, holding up his hands for silence. His brain was having trouble comprehending what was happening in front of him, "Let's take this back a few steps. You two are together?"

"Yes." Coulson said, at the same time as Clint smirked and said "Nightly."

"And you two…." Tony made an explanatory gesture.

"Yes." Coulson said again, and Clint added in, "Frequently."

Tony made a disgusted face, "I did not need to know that." Tony decided irritably, "It's too early for this shit."

He fled the room, trying to supress the images flooding his mind.

* * *

**A/N: So I don't have a ship that likes to invade other fics. What are you talking about? **


	4. Thor

Something was draped over him. Something warm and heavy. He poked it, not brave enough to open his eyes yet. He knew if he did, he probably wouldn't like what he found.

It felt like an arm.

Tony cracked open one eye, looking at the offending something with dubious caution. It was an arm. He shut his eye again, not sure he wanted to know who the arm belonged to, and how they ended up in bed together. Remaining still, he checked what he could of the situation. He was not wearing a shirt, but seemed to still have his pyjama pants on, which was always a good sign. He couldn't feel any of the signs that suggest he'd been having sex with anyone, which he took as a positive. Maybe.

The arm on top of him shifted, and Tony realized suddenly – with a cold thrill of anxiety – that he didn't know a) who was in his bed, or b) where this someone's other arm happened to be. This worried him immensely.

There's nothing for it, he had to open his eyes and face the facts.

He opened both eyes this time, quickly, not wanting to come to terms with it gradually. What he saw gave him the fright of his life.

There was a face, leaning in, close to his, blue eyes wide and curious. Tony shiftsed backwards across the bed that wasn't his and glares at Thor.

"I'm in your bed." He said, confused and stating the obvious, "Why am I in your bed?"

"I was considering asking you the same question." Thor replied, "Is this a common occurrence here on Midgard?"

"Not in this tower." Tony muttered, head in his hands. This was decidedly not normal, and he wasn't enjoying it in the slightest. There was only one person in the tower he would be happy to wake up in bed with, and that person was not Thor.


	5. Natasha

The next time Tony woke up in a bed that wasn't his, he thought for a moment that he was alone. Then, he felt the way the mattress dipped next to him and he realized that there was someone in his space, or rather, he was in theirs.

Before he opened his eyes, he took a moment to try to work out where he was. The sheets were soft, not as smooth and fancy as he was used to, but comfortable. For some reason the room seemed like a woman's room, something about it, the smell of it maybe, made him so sure. The next thing that he noticed is a sound. A small, repetitive noise.

_Scrape, scrape, scrape._

It concerned Tony immensely, because it sounded like at least one of the components doing the scraping was made out of metal. There was nothing for it, Tony decided, he would have to open his eyes.

He did so, and wondered if he should even be surprised anymore.

Natasha Romanov was sitting up in bed next to him, knife and whetstone in her hands, which appeared to be the source of the scraping. She was wearing white pyjama shorts and a black T-Shirt with the SHIELD emblem on the front. Her long legs were bare, stretched out in front of her, crossed neatly at the ankles. Her hair was in an untidy ponytail, with strands escaping around her face.

"Oh good, you're awake." She said, without actually looking at him. It was kinda freaky that she could do that.

Tony sat up slowly, "DO you always have weapons in bed, Agent Romanov, or is it just me?"

For a moment, he thought he saw a smile flicker across her face, and he was terrified, but it was gone before he could be sure.


	6. Pepper

**A/N: yes, this is a short chapter. I know. It's short because it needs to be. Trust me**

* * *

"Tony, this has got to stop." Pepper said, when she woke up to find Tony asleep across half of her bed.

"I know!" He emphasised, gesticulating. "Hey, I don't even remember how I got here!" He complained, hunching a little sulkily.

Pepper sighed. "Jarvis?"

"You sleepwalked in here at around 1 this morning sir." Jarvis obliged.

Tony dropped his head into his hands and groaned.

"Just tell him how your feel." Pepper suggested.

"That," Tony replied, "Is a terrible, terrible idea. He would not react well to that. Oh, no." He shook his head, "Impossible. Not happening."

"If you say so." Pepper shrugged, settling back into her bed and picking up a book.


	7. Steve

This time when he wakes he is positive he's in his own bed. The sheets feel right, smooth and silky against his bare skin and the sunlight he can feel warming his shoulder and arm is coming from the right angle for it to be his room. What concerns him is the slight shift he feels in the mattress next to him and the cool hand that presses against his forehead and nearly makes him jump out of his skin.

"Well, you're not feverish, which is a good sign." Says a chillingly familiar voice from just outside his field of vision, "How does your head feel?"

It's then that he realises that's he's hung-over. Again. And while this time he might be in his own bed, he appears to sharing it with Captain America. Great.

"Ugh." He mutters by way of reply to Steve's question, pulling a pillow over his face and using the brief reprieve to do a quick self-inventory. He doesn't feel like he's been having sex, and other than the usual pounding head ache that always accompanied his more spectacular hangovers, he seemed fine. Okay, so, it was unlikely he and Steve had had sex the previous night – and some part of his brain was disappointed at that because hey, Steve was hot, single and right there – so what exactly had happened?

"You were drunk." Steve says, lifting the pillow off Tony's face gently, and only then did Tony realise that he'd said that last bit aloud, "I carried you back here and stayed to keep an eye on you." He shrugged.

Tony felt like rolling his eyes. He'd unknowingly had Steve either in or around his bed last night and hadn't made a move on him.

"Damnit." He mutters crossly, throwing an arm over his face since Steve had taken his pillow.

"What?" Steve asks, and Tony can imagine the expression on the other man's face.

Then, Tony does what he's been waiting to do – wanting to do – for months now, he leans up and kisses Steve squarely on the mouth, ignoring the other's surprised sound just for a moment, in case it was the last time he felt those lips against his.

He pulls back after only a moment, looking up at Steve, curious to see what he'll do. He expects Steve to blush and fumble or to wipe his mouth on his sleeve in disgust and start lecturing Tony on correct behavior. What he doesn't expect is what Steve does next – leans down over him and kisses him back, all rough need and warm lips.  
Tony feels like he could spend forever kissing Steve, just to feel the exact shape and pressure of those lips against his and when he presses his tongue against them the warmth and slick of Steve's mouth behind. And the sounds. Tony does his best to memorise the sounds Steve makes, the little gasps that sound almost surprised and when their lips part for a brief moment to draw in more air the soft whisper of "Tony."

Tony knows he would fight against any monster, no matter how horrible, to hear Steve say his name like that even once more. Breathlessly, he tells Steve this and Steve laughs gently and then gasps out Tony's name again, startled and breathless when Tony's teeth find his neck and bite down, gently but with an edge of just the right amount of pain. They don't do too much talking after that.


	8. Epilogue

"Stark!" Clint bangs on Tony's door irritably. He's trying to sleep in goddamnit, and Stark and whoever he's picked up this time won't shut the hell up. There's not response from Tony's room and Clint sighs, padding back towards his own room, tempted for a moment to make a detour to Natasha's room until she gets out of bed and hangs out with him or something. But then he recalls last time he tried to wake her up early while on leave and winces – the bruises lasted for nearly 2 weeks – continuing down the corridor.  
Returning to his room and flopping back into bed, Clint wonders idly who Tony was having so much fun with. It obviously isn't Clint himself, and Clint knows it isn't Natasha either, and he knows she's already deemed that one night as a mistake. Thor is taking Loki back to Asgard and won't be back for another few days and Bruce is visiting India again. Which only leaves….

"Holy shit." Clint cusses despite himself, sitting up very fast, "Jarvis?"

"Yes?" The AI answers promptly.

"Who is in Stark's bedroom with him?" Clint is already anticipating the answer, reaching for his phone as Jarvis answers with,

"Captain Rogers is in Mr. Stark's bedroom, Agent Barton. They seem to be quite enjoying themselves."

Clint has stopped listening, he's already got his phone out, texting frantically.


	9. Coda

Agent Coulson is in the middle of a very important breakfast-meeting when his phone makes the annoying bird-of-prey screech that Clint has programmed in as his personal text tone.

Coulson apologises and pulls the phone from his pants pocket, only to have to work very hard not to sigh and roll his eyes. Sure enough, the text was from Clint, and read simply: I think Tony got the D.

Coulson rolls his eyes and texts back: Again? Which this time?

It's only a moment before his phone screeches again, and with a muter of 'important business' he opens the new message, and abruptly has to fake a coughing fit to disguise the fact that he is spluttering in a mix out outrage and incredulity.

Clint's reply reads simply: The Star Spangled D.

Coulson excuses himself from the meeting, ignoring Director Fury's wrathful mutterings and considers texting Clint back. He doesn't have to, as it turns out, as yet another screech emanates from his pocket.

C: Sir, are you alright? What are you doing?

Phil smiles and texts back: Going to warn a genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist exactly what will happen to him if he breaks the heart of Captain America.

* * *

**A/N: ****And that's that then. Not sure what I'll do next. Procrastinate writing something else maybe?**

**Oh, and before I forget, a BIG thanks to Aurelie (NowImJustSomebodyThat) for not only providing brilliant comments on all the chapters, making me laugh and motivating me when I was ready to ignore this fic for another month but also for coming up with the Star Spangled D text conversation idea and letting me use it.**


End file.
